


The Richie Diaries

by Studpuffin



Series: Movie Aus [2]
Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Audra is Lana, Bev is Lily, Bill is Josh, Bisexual Beverly Marsh, Bisexual Bill Denbrough, Eddie is Michael, F/M, Gay Eddie Kaspbrak, Gay Richie Tozier, M/M, Maggie is a princess, Mike is Joeseph, Princess Diaries AU, Richie is Mia, Stan is Palo, but barely, get ready for the insanity, richie is anxious, single dad wentworth is the best
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-30
Updated: 2018-11-07
Packaged: 2019-07-04 13:48:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15842565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Studpuffin/pseuds/Studpuffin
Summary: Richie Tozier is a grade A loser. From his coke bottle glasses to his braces and wild hair, he walks around with a target on his back for bullies. His crush on Bill Denbrough has been effectively squashed by the fact that Bill is dating Audra, head cheerleader and major bitch.But it isn't all bad. His dad is a writer and probably the coolest dad ever. His two best friends are artsy and funny and weird, just like him. Between the three of them and his cat, Richie feels like he doesn't really need any more friends.So life's not perfect, but it's pretty good.But suddenly, Richie's grandmother comes to town after 17 years and gives him some news that takes his perfectly normal life and changes it forever:Richie, is royalty.





	1. Richie Rich

**Author's Note:**

> Me? Writing another fic while I have like 3 WIPs? It's more likely than you think. 
> 
> But seriously I got this idea and y'all showed like OVERWHELMING support for it so here we go

Richie Tozier was a grade A nerd. Thick-lensed, coke bottle glasses covered most of his face, his curly hair stuck out in a million different directions no matter how much he attempted to tame it, and the cherry on top was his braces. 

_ One of those things alone would have made me a target for bullies, but somehow I won the loser lottery and ended up with all of them.  _

He rolled these unfortunate thoughts around in his head as he rode his bike down the busy streets of New York City towards St. Ann’s. Rounding the corner, he fell into pedaling next to his best friend Beverly Marsh. 

“Hey Red,” he grinned, at her neon blue eye-shadow, “You know Principle Marcus is never gonna let you get away with wearing that color.” 

Bev grinned, “Fuck the man Richie,” she adjusted her backpack strap as the pulled up to the bike rack, “Fuck these stupid skirts too,” she grumbled, pulling on the hem. They headed up the stairs, toward the looming wooden doors. Richie grinned seeing a small boy leaning against the marble column. 

“Eddie!” he called out, waving excitedly. Eddie looked up and grinned, waving back. All three teenagers fell into step together as they wandered the massive halls of St. Ann’s. Suddenly Richie slammed into a looker and looked up in shock as Audra Phillips pushed past him. 

She stopped, flipping her long blonde ponytail over her shoulder, “Guess they forgot to take out the trash over the summer,” she sneered, sauntering away to catch up with her boyfriend, Bill Denbrough. Richie slumped on the floor next to his locker and rested his forehead on his knees. 

_ So much for suddenly getting cool for senior year. And so much for Bill breaking up with Audra and realizing he likes boys.  _

Eddie sat down next to Richie, “I hate them both.”

Bev nodded, “Major airhead assholes,” she sat down on his other side and put her arm around his shoulders. 

Richie shrugged, “Bill isn’t so bad…” 

“Bullshit Bill’s not so bad,” Eddie rolled his eyes, “And your crush on him is only making you feel like crap.”

“Whatever,” Richie mumbled, “You guys both liked him too.” 

“Yeah in the third grade!” Bev shoved him playfully, “And Eddie liked him when we were like in kindergarten. That doesn’t count.”

Richie opened his mouth to counter, but the bell rang effectively silencing him.

“Come on,” Bev held out her hand to him, “Let’s get to class. We’ll hang out later ok? You gotta help me work on my proposition for the GSA meeting next week,” She threw her arm around him, “Were meeting at your place tonight.”  

 

Richie dragged himself home at the end of the day, wheeling his bike into the garage of their apartment building. He quickly climbed the fire escape ladder and pushed open his window, dropping his backpack onto his bed and collapsing face first into his pillow. Mochi, his ridiculously chubby munchkin cat, crawled up on to his bed and curled up next to him. 

“He Mo…” he sighed, “You are so lucky you don’t have to be in high school,” Richie pulled the cat closer to him and sighed, burying his face in the fluffy fur, dozing off into a fitful sleep. 

A few hours later there was a knock on his door that pulled him from his nap. He looked up, adjusting his glasses, “Come in.”

Wentworth Tozier pushed his son’s door open and came in, sitting on the edge of his bed, “Hey kiddo.”

“Hey…” he pushed himself to sit up. 

“Rough day kid?” Wentworth asked, ruffling Richie’s curls.

Richie shrugged, “No worse than any other day I guess.” He stretched, “Is it ok if Eds and Bev come over tonight?” 

Went nodded, “Sure kid. Want pizza? I’ll get pepperoni.” 

Richie grinned, “Yeah thanks,” he shrugged off his uniform jacket, tossing it on to the ever-growing pile of laundry on his floor, “I’ll be down in a minute ok?” 

Went nodded, rising from the bed, “Your grandmother called.” 

Richie stopped in the middle of pulling off his beat-up high tops, tripping and falling on his face, “I’m sorry what? She’s been dead for like three years!” 

“No...no kid the alive one,” he gave Richie a tight smile, “She um...she wants to have tea with you on Saturday. She has something important to talk to you about. About your mother.” 

Richie snorted, “Why? She’s never talked to me once in 17 years and now she suddenly wants to have fucking tea with me? And what does she wanna tell me about mom? What’s mom got to do with fucking anything anymore? I haven’t seen her since I was fucking three years old!” 

“Language Richard.” 

“Sorry,” he mumbled, “I just..agh!” he hurled his shoe into his closet, “What does she even want?!” 

Went ruffled his hair gently, “Go have tea with her. See for yourself kiddo.” 

 

“Wait so she just showed up out of nowhere after 17 years and now she’s inviting you to high tea at the Plaza Hotel?” Bev asked, shoving a handful of M&Ms into her mouth and pulling Mochi into her lap. 

“Yeah basically,” Richie didn’t look up from painting his black nail polish on his nails, “Dad said she has something important to talk to me about. Something about Maggie,” he poked his tongue out in concentration as he attempted to paint his right hand, “Oh fuck me,” he groaned, “Eds can you do my right hand?” he looked up at Eddie who was laying with his feet up on the wall flipping through Richie’s record collection, “You always do a better job of it than I do.” 

Eddie leaned his head back to look upside down at Richie, a soft smile on his face, “Sure. Just let me change the record.” 

Eddie stood, moving to the record player to change the song, the light from Richie’s fairy lights making the natural highlights of his hair glow. He swayed to the music pouring out of Richie’s record player, “I don’t know why you don’t just switch to MP3s like a normal person,” he teased.

Richie didn’t hear him. He was zoning out, watching Eddie sway to the soft sounds of Fleetwood Mac. He was suddenly insanely distracted by Eddie dancing, the way his skin seemed to glow under the lights, how his eyes sparkled when he looked at Richie. Richie felt heat rush to his cheeks as his stomach tightened as Eddie looked at him again, the same soft smile on his face. 

_ When the fuck did Eds get hot? Jesus has his hair always looked so soft? And shiny holy crap. Since when does Eddie have such pretty shiny hair? His eyes are so bright too. What the actual fuck? Who let Eddie get so hot all of a sudden? _

_ WOah pull it together Richie. Where the fuck did that come from? _

Richie shook his head slightly and noticed Eddie was staring at him with a curious look on his face.

“Hello? Earth to Richie. Do you have the new Lana album?” 

Richie nodded, “It’s next to the camera,” he nodded in its general direction. Eddie nodded and set it on the turntable, fixing Richie with the same bemused look on his face. Richie blushed, not breaking eye contact with his petite friend. 

“What? Do I have something on my face?” Richie teased.

Eddie smiled and shook his head, “Nothing. Just give me your hand,” he sat down in front of Richie and pulled his hand into his lap. 

Richie raised an eyebrow curiously as Eddie started painting his nails, reaching for a slice of pizza with his dry hand, “You’re weird Eddie Spaghetti.”

Eddie looked up and grinned, “Not as weird as you Trashmouth,” he poked his tongue out, redipping his nail brush. Richie smiled to himself, looking at his two best friends

_ Yeah,  _ he thought to himself,  _ Life doesn’t get any better than this.  _

 

Richie stood in front of the hotel, looking up at the impressive doors. He took a deep breath and pushed the door open talking up the front desk. 

The young woman behind the desk didn’t look up from her computer, “Staff entrance is around the corner.”

Richie blushed, “Oh uh...No I’m supposed to meet my grandmother. She’s staying here.”

“Name?” 

“Claira Bernardi?” It came out like a question like he wasn’t quite sure who she was. 

The girl’s eyes widened, “Oh yes of course! Follow me.” She lead Richie down the hallway and into the grand dining room and into a private booth in the back. Sitting there was a beautiful older woman with long black hair, tied in a graceful bun. She was wearing a navy blue pants suit and gorgeous gold jewelry. Richie instantly didn’t trust her. As Richie approached, she looked up, eyes narrowing.

“You’re late.”

Richie titled his head down and laughed nervously, “Yeah sorry...I had school.” 

“It’s not polite to be late Richard,” she gestured to the seat across from here and Richie sat, scrunching up his nose. 

“Richie. Everyone calls me Richie,” He shifted uncomfortably as she stared at him, “So...why are you...What do you want?” 

“I wanted to meet you. To talk to you. I have some news for you that’s going to change your life.” 

Richie snorted and grinned, “I already have braces, Grandma. Can’t get more life-changing than that.” 

Her eyes widened, “This is far bigger than your orthodontic work Richard. Do you know who Margaret Amelia Genevieve Bernardi is?”

“No...Should I?” He stuck a straw in his iced tea and sucked loudly grinning internally as she flinched. 

_ She didn’t call me Richie _ . _ And she hates when I suck ice apparently.  _

“She was a princess in Genovia.” 

“Oh,” he picked at his nails, “Cool I guess. What’s that got to do with me?” He looked up at her, pushing his glasses up his nose. 

Claria Gave him a small smile, “She was your mother Richard.” 

Richie laughed, “Maggie? Maggie was a princess?” he shook his head, “No way. My dad said they met in college and after I was born she got her dream job somewhere in Europe. She sends me cards on my birthday. She paid for my school tuition...she’s great I guess. But she can’t be a princess.” He laughed again nervously, “Because if she was a princess...that...that would make me a-”

Claira nodded, “A prince. And so you are,” she placed her hands gently on top of his, “You, Richard Simon Bernardi Tozier, my grandson and my daughter’s only son, are the crown prince of Genovia.”


	2. Sit Still and Look Pretty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Richie narrowed his eyes suspiciously, “What’s the catch?” 
> 
> Claria gave him a small satisfied smile, “You’ll be attending lessons with me.” 
> 
> Richie scrunched up his nose, “Lessons?” 
> 
> She nodded, “Lessons. In diplomacy, fashion, etiquette. Every day after school until the Independence Day Ball that is a month away.” 
> 
> Richie choked on his coffee “A month? I’m supposed to learn all of this in a month?!” 
> 
> Claria gave him a smile smirk and he shudders at the sudden realization that there were, in fact, facial similarities with the woman who was attempting to ruin his life, “Trust me, Richard. In my hands, you will.”

Richie Tozier talks a lot. In fact, most of his friends would say one of his defining features, is that he never shuts the fuck up.

But right now Richie is speechless.

Not only is he completely at a loss for words, but he’s also mildly horrified that his estranged grandmother is three feet from him with an expectant smile on her face, like he’s supposed to start jumping for joy that he has yet _another_ thing that’s going to make him a freak to his peers.

He’s barely surviving high school. How the fuck can anyone expect him to run a country?

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” It’s out of his mouth before he can find a nicer way to say it, although he does get a quick flash of joy at the horrified look on Claria’s face.

“I beg your pardon. Does your father let you get away with that language?”

“You can’t just waltz into my life and tell me this. And are you _SURE_ you have the right person? I mean look at me!” he frantically gestures to himself in all his frizzy-haired, chipped nail polish, dirty sneakered glory.

His grandmother gives him a sympathetic smile, “Richard, I know this is a big change in your life. And I know that the adjustment won’t simply happen, but once you’re all settled in Genovia you’ll see it really isn’t-”

“I’m sorry what?!” Richie slumped lower in his seat, “Move to Genovia?”

“Of course,” She smiled in that cool, calculated that made Richie want to knock himself out on the heavy marble table, “You’ll meet parliament and get to know the traditions of the country.”

“Who said I was doing it?” he cut in quickly, “You can’t make me do this,” he shoved his chair away from the table, “No _FUCKING_ way,” he grabbed his backpack and bolted from the room.

 

Half an hour later, Richie stomped into the apartment and was instantly furious with the scene in front of him. It wasn’t that the scene was particularly offensive or even that uncommon. Went and Mochi was curled up on the couch watching some Simpson’s rerun. What made Richie fume was that his father could act like life was completely normal when the world was clearly falling apart.

Richie slammed the door loudly, causing Went to look over from the television.

“Hey Rich. How was seeing grandma?”

That was the final straw, “Like you don’t know how it was,” Richie huffed, flinging his backpack into an empty chair, “You knew!” he rounded on his father who was giving him that look. The look parents give as if to say, ‘sorry for lying to you but I have an excuse.”

“Rich…”

“Oh no you don’t get to make me feel bad for being mad. You lied to me! For 18 years!” He kicked off his sneakers, and shot up the stairs, his bedroom door slamming shut behind him, blocking him off from whatever excuses his father could have made.

 

Richie’s alarm blared the next morning, beeping loudly until he kicked it off the table near the foot of his bed, flinching as it crashed to the floor.

 _Fuck school today,_ he thought to himself, pulling the blankets over his head and tugging Mochi to his chest. He buried his face in his pillow, letting the events of yesterday circle around in his head.

 _This has to be a nightmare. That didn’t happen._ He shifted onto his back, letting Mochi push her paws into his stomach and make herself comfortable. He lay there a few more moments longer until the grumbling of his stomach forced him out of bed.

The sight in his kitchen was not at all what he expected. His father was reading the paper and drinking coffee and sitting across from him was his grandmother, daintily eating a toaster waffle and sipping coffee.

His brain spun so fast, he felt a wave of panic and nausea rising in his stomach. This wasn’t supposed to happen. If they were in the same place that could only mean one thing.

They were going to make him do this.

“Dad...what’s going on?” he cautiously walked over to the counter and picked up a cup of coffee. His eyes darted quickly between his dad and grandmother. Wentworth looked up from his paper and ran a hand through his hair, much like Richie did when he was nervous.

“Rich...we have to have a talk.”

“No kidding,” he mumbled, taking a sip of his coffee and scowling at the neon green floor tiles of their kitchen.

There was silence for a moment until Claria cleared her throat, “Richard-”

“Richie,” he snapped, glaring at her.

“Richie,” she amended, “This...whole situation was supposed to be avoided. You...you were born out of wedlock and your mother was meant to come home and get married. But when she...well she had some health complications that made it impossible for her to have another child, leaving you as her sole heir. Our country's sole heir.”

“But no pressure or anything,” he deadpanned.

“Quite the opposite. The future if the nation rests on your shoulders.”

Richie barely suppressed a snort, and looked over at Wentworth, “Do they not have sarcasm in Genovia?”

Wentworth gave him a warning look, “What your grandmother is trying to say,” he looked over cautiously at Claria, “is that there are...some expectations. However,” he held up a hand as Richie tried to protest, “I know this is a lot to spring on you. And I completely understand if you don’t want to do it or if you need to take your time to make a decision.”

Richie narrowed his eyes suspiciously, “What’s the catch?”

Claria gave him a small satisfied smile, “You’ll be attending lessons with me.”

Richie scrunched up his nose, “Lessons?”

She nodded, “Lessons. In diplomacy, fashion, etiquette. Every day after school until the Independence Day Ball that is a month away.”

Richie choked on his coffee “A month? I’m supposed to learn all of this in a month?!”

Claria gave him a smile smirk and he shudders at the sudden realization that there were, in fact, facial similarities with the woman who was attempting to ruin his life, “Trust me, Richard. In my hands, you will.”

 

“Richie you promised!” Bev slammed her history textbook on the table, “You said you would help me edit tonight!”

Richie looked up from where he was listlessly poking at his cafeteria food, “Bev, believe me, I’d rather be with you editing for the newest episode of Breakfast with Bev but Madam has made it explicitly clear that if I’m not the Plaza at 3:30 sharp she’s going to send the entire NYPD after me. Get Ben to help you.”

“Can she do that?” Eddie’s eyes widened in concern.

Richie shrugged, “Legally? Probably not. Will she anyway? Most definitely.”

Bev huffed, “I wish you’d at least bring the camera. Your grandma would be a great interview subject for the family history episode.”

“Something tells me she’s not the family history project kind of person,” he mumbled before turning to Eddie again, “Hey Eds did you fix my baby yet.”

Eddie had quite the talent for cars. He loved to help people and fix things, and that coupled with his dexterity and patient nature is what made Richie come to him with the insane project of fixing up his 1985 Mustang.

Eddie cringed, “Err...kinda?”

Richie gulped, “Kinda?”

Eddie gave him an apologetic smile, “sorry Richie. Come by later though. Mike might be able to fix it.”

_Eddie...sweet caring Eddie. Always going out of his way to help_

Richie shoved his shoulder gently, “At least lemme pay you for staying late this time.”

Eddie smiled shyly and shrugged his hand off, “No way. Come one you know that the Hanlons just let me stay late and practice anyway. Not like my mom would let me bring the keyboard home.”

_What a gem this kid is. Seriously Richie why haven’t we wifed him up again?_

_Are we seriously still gonna sit here and pine over Denbrough until we graduate?_

Richie shook his head slightly and sighed, willing himself not to think about what was coming after school as he got lost in whatever story Bev was telling now.

 

3:45 pm. Richie slumped lower in his chair, scowling at the clock. 15 minutes and she still wasn’t there. He jiggled his foot, watching it come dangerously close to an intricate looking statue on the table in front of him. He narrowed his eyes in annoyance, picking at his nails.

“Mr. Tozier?”

The voice startled him, making his foot slip, causing him to hit the statue and knock it off the table where it shatters on the floor. He looked up, making panicked eye contact with a pretty girl with long auburn hair, pulled up in a neat ponytail. She surveyed him with a look of vague amusement on her face.

“I can fix that…” he whispered.

“I doubt it,” she laughed, flipping her ponytail over her shoulder, and held out her hand, “I’m Patricia. Your grandmother’s assistant,” she nodded towards the door, “She’s ready for you.” He scrambled to stand, accidentally knocking over the chair he was sitting in. He cringes as he hears the dull thud and the tinkle of what he assumes was the expensive looking vase on the table next to it breaking. He quickly through another, ‘sorry’ over his shoulder at Patricia and takes off down the hallway toward the large wooden doors.

 _She’s ready for you. God that makes her sound like a fucking bond villain._ He thinks to himself as he pushes the door to her suit open. Sure enough, there’s Claria, sitting in a plush high-backed chair with her white Persian cat Elsa perched on her lap. She looked up when he entered and regarded cooly.

“I’ve been expecting you,”

 _BOND VILLAIN called it!!_  

“Yeah...I’ve been here for like 15 minutes already.”

“Do you realize adding ‘like’ into your sentence makes you sound exponentially more uneducated than you are? I’m sure that fancy school of yours doesn’t allow it.”

“Uhh…”

“And they ‘uhhs’! You young people today. You don’t know how to speak I swear.” She stood, shooing Elsa from her lap, “Let me have a look at you. Come on now come here.” She crossed the room to him in easy strides and looked him up and down.

“Turn.”

“What?”

“A circled Richard. Turn in a circle.” She gave him the same look he’d often given Audra as if to stay ‘what are you? Stupid?’

Richie turned slowly, feeling his skin prickle uncomfortably.

“Patricia! Patricia come in here and take a list! And phone Stanley. Tell him I’ll need him for tomorrow!”

Patricia nodded, “Right away your majesty.” she clicked her pen as Claria circled Richie again.

“Hair is far too long for a boy his age, and far to mess. I swear Wentworth knows better than to let you galavant around looking like one of the Wild Things,” she clicked tongue in disapproval and then continued, “Eyes, beautiful like his mother’s,” she paused for a moment to give him a soft smile, and then immediately launched back into her rant, “Nail, horrid. Clean nails from now on. And we’ll be taking your measurements,” It takes Richie a full 30 seconds to process she is, in fact, speaking to him, “I want you in pants that fit not those baggy monstrosities you’re currently wearing. And no more street shoes. Oxfords or dress shoes from now on. Are we clear?”

He’s too stunned to do anything but nod. No more Chucks? No more nail polish? She was going to cut his hair? This was too much. He had to run. Say ‘no no thank you, not for me’, book it back to the Village, and spend of the afternoon watching Eddie work on his car while he and Bev edit videos for her youtube channel. But before he can even move, a tall older man with sunglasses, who had been standing so quietly Richie hadn’t even noticed him, was shutting the wooden door and moving to stand in front of it.

“Alright,” she settled back in her chair and gestured to the chair across from her, “Let’s begin.”


	3. Prince Charming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Richie looked up into the mirror and gasped, “Holy shit am I...am I hot?”

Richie flopped onto the couch, pulling Bev’s laptop into his lap, and messing with the iMovie editor, popping another gummy bear into his mouth. 

“She did what!?!” Bev laughed in horror. 

“She tied me to a chair to fix my posture,” he grinned, looking over at Eddie, whose top half was obstructed by Richie’s car. He grinned, as Eddie’s laugh echoed out from underneath the car. 

“That’s fucking nuts,” he giggled. 

Richie nodded, “It’s pretty fucking nuts. And speaking of nuts I’m about to bust one looking at you in that jumpsuit Eddie Spaghetti,” he smirked as Eddie rolled out from under the car and smirked. 

“Better not be using me just to rebound from Denbrough,” he teased. 

“Baby you wound me,” Richie clapped a hand to his heart, “You know I’d never use you like that.” 

Eddie gave him a curious look turned back to the car, the ghost of a smile on his face. Bev chucked a gummy worm at Richie’s head and he winced at it hit his glasses. 

“Bitch do you want me to finish this or not?” he grinned, laughing as she grabbed for the laptop to see his progress. 

Eddie leaned against the car, watching Richie and Bev horse around in the open space of the garage, a small smile on his face. Mike slid next to him and gave him a knowing look. 

“You doing all this free work for a reason?” He grinned as the tips of Eddie’s ears turned pink. 

“Shut up,” he mumbled, biting his lower lip. 

“You’re pretty gone on him huh?” 

“Zip it, Michael,” he shoved his arm gently, and then sighed, “Ok yeah. I’m pretty gone on him,” he smiled, blushing as Richie grinned at him. 

 

Richie toyed with the cuff of his jacket as he waited for his grandmother and whoever this Stanley guy was. He shuffled his feet nervously and Patricia laughed at him from across the room. 

“Stop fidgeting. You have nothing to be nervous about.” 

“Says you,” Richie mumbled, “She’s not shaving your head.” 

Suddenly the door burst open and there stood his grandmother and a good looking young man with effortlessly styled sandy blonde hair and a sleek looking black turtleneck sweater and skinny black pants. He surveyed Richie with calculating eyes. 

“Claria I’m not a miracle worker,” Stan shook his head, “I don’t know what you want me to do. 

Patricia knelt down next to Richie “Oh come on Stan he’s adorable. Look at him,” she grinned. 

Stan gave her small smile and took a step closer to Richie, taking him gently by the chin and tilting his head to get a better look at his jawline, “For you Patty, I can do my best,” he stood, placing a gentle kiss on her cheek. He grabbed Richie by the upper arm and dragged him into the other room. 

“Your hair is a mess. We’re getting this.”

“Please don’t,” Richie looked up at him, eyes wide with panic, “I really love my hair…” 

Stan smiled a little, “Richie, I have curly hair. I get it,” he squeezed his shoulder, “We’re just gonna clean it up,” he promised. 

Richie nodded slowly, “Ok…what about my glasses?” 

“We’re gonna get frames that fit your face,” Stan grinned, “But first, we’re gonna clean up that skin of yours,” he smirked, grabbing his skin care kit from the desk, “Sit still.” 

 

Three hours later, Stan pulled away, looking Richie up and down, “I am a goddamn genius,” he poked out his tongue as he fixed Richie’s hair one last time 

Richie looked up into the mirror and gasped, “Holy shit am I...am I hot?” 

Stan grinned, “What can I say I do good work. You think this is good, wait to you see what I have planned for the ball next month. You’re gonna look fantastic,” he waved Patty over, “Pat come look at how brilliant I am,” he pulled her into his side and kissed her cheek

Richie blushed, “I uh...thanks,” he whispered, “I gotta go but thank you,” he scrambled to stand, “I have homework. Thanks. I gotta go,” he grinned nervously, “But thank you! Thanks!” 

 

Richie looked down at his new oxford shoes and suddenly felt sick to his stomach. This was going to change things. What would Bev and Eddie say? What would all the other kids think? 

Bev strolled up to him, looking him up and down, “Wow what the fuck happened to you?” 

Richie blushed “My grandma sort of insisted. I think it looks good. Does it look bad?” he ran his hair through his new short curls. 

She laughed, “You look like a fucking prep kid.” 

Eddie elbowed her, “We are prep kids Bev,” he smiled, “I think you like nice Richie. You look hot,” he bit his lip. 

Richie squeaked as the back of his neck prickled and his cheeks started to heat up, “Thanks Eds,” he smiled a little, nervously picking at his newly manicured nails, “I umm...You look nice today,” he blushed darker, “I need to go to class!” he grabbed Bev’s hand and pulled her inside. 

She pulled her hand away the second they got inside, “What is going on with you?!”

Richie scrunched his nose up, “What are you talking about?” 

“You’re letting her CHANGE you, Richie! Soon you’re gonna be hanging out with Denbrough and Philips and basically begging to suck his dick. And it’s not fair that you're leading on Eddie like this!” 

“I’m not leading on Eds! He doesn’t like me!”

She snorted, “You’re an idiot. He’s liked you for years! And you act like you like him and then just make fucking heart eyes at Bill all the time!” 

“Eddie does NOT like me!” 

“You think he works his as off on your shit hole car just for kicks?!?” she rolled her eyes, “Whatever. Just...figure your shit out, Richie.” 

Richie stood, blinking stupidly after her. Eddie had feelings for him? Eddie likes him...Eddie  _ liked HIM??? _ He shivered, feeling the eyes of others students of him. He watched Bill Denbrough’s eyes slowly rake over him, and then he smirked, “Looking good Tozier,” he winked.

Richie squeaked softly, “Thanks,” he whispered, gripping his backpack. Was that all it took to get Bill’s attention? A little gel in his hair? He shook his head slightly. He still needed to figure out what to do about Eddie. 

He really did like Eddie too. 

He covered his face with his hands, pressing his back up against the wall. It felt like he couldn’t catch a break.

All he wanted was to be normal. All he wanted was a normal senior year with his friends. He didn’t want people staring at him. He didn’t want to be anything other than normal Richie Tozier. 

“Rich? Hey, are you ok?” 

Richie jumped slightly, “Eds hey. Yeah...yeah, I’m ok. Bev’s being weird.” 

Eddie sighed, “Well...If you’re still free Friday night do you wanna come down to the garage? Mike and Ben and I have been messing around with some more music stuff if you wanna hear it.”

“Will you buy me pizza?” Richie teased.

“With extra sausage,” Eddie leaned his head on his shoulder. 

Richie laughed, throwing his arm around Eddie’s shoulders, ”Sounds perfect Eds.” 

So maybe stuff wasn’t perfect. Maybe his life was a mess and Bev was pissed at him and maybe Eddie was asking him out and maybe Bill Denbrough winked at him and likes him a little. These thoughts and others floated through his mind, as he wandered into English class. 

He could deal with being royally fucked later. 

Right now, things were good. 

**Author's Note:**

> Leave me comments! I love them!! 
> 
> Come say hi on tumblr: @studpuffin


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